Nutritional Value
by Irradiance
Summary: It was just a healthy craving...right? Gen. No pairings.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Air Gear. I pull no punches when I say I'm rather glad I don't own it.

**A/N: **...This is random, I know. There was also a second part that I cut out from this which I might post separately. It just didn't seem to fit nicely with the story you see below. Anyhow, note that his name is spelled **C**anon rather than **K**anon here. Also, this was written when I still took Canon seriously and thought he was a creepy _yandere_. ...And then after 260 chapters or so, I stopped taking him seriously. He's less creepy after that.

And finally: this is a general fic. No pairings except for Canon's creepy implied infatuation with Ringo, but I must be the only person who kind of wishes Canon and Kururu weren't related. /shot

**Story notes:** Just in case, _Ringo_ means apple in Japanese.

* * *

**Nutritional Value**

* * *

They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Halves.

Kururu was old enough to know that it wasn't true.

Quarters.

There were so many other things that factored into a person's health.

Eighths.

But she knew well enough that apples were healthy.

Kururu divided the last apple with surgical precision. The only thing crisper than her cutting was the sound of splitting apples when she ran the knife through them. Carefully, she fanned the slices out neatly on a plate with all the other fruits she'd prepared before rinsing the knife and wiping it down before placing it back with the cutlery. With quiet footsteps, she made her way into the living room. The television was on, but Canon wasn't watching, too busy fiddling with his guitar on the couch.

"Where'd everyone go?" the rose-haired girl asked, placing the plate of fruit on the table. Canon continued sliding his fingers down the neck of the guitar, memorizing chords.

"They're upstairs," he shrugged, plopping his guitar beside him. He eyed the plate of freshly cut fruit in front of him.

"...Did you cut up more apples than usual?"

His cousin blinked, tilting her head curiously. "No."

"Huh," Canon grunted.

And the matter was dropped.

Kururu stared at his guitar, just sitting there on the couch. Truthfully, she'd wanted to learn how to play it but never dared to ask.

Until today, that is.

"Hey, Canon," she pointed shyly at his guitar, "Can I?"

Her cousin gave a reassuring grin. "Sure."

Kururu held the guitar gingerly over her lap, gliding her fingers over the strings. The guitar was well-kept; Canon always did take care of his instruments. She strummed the guitar and her face lit up in wonder when a fluid peal fluttered into the air. Kururu then pressed her fingers on the strings, trying to mimic Canon, and strummed again, but a discordant, off-key sound rang out like a knell, much to her dismay. She stopped and rested the instrument gently on her lap, stretching a hand towards the plate of fruit.

"Canon, how do you —"

She froze when she looked at the platter.

The apples were gone.

"Yeah?"

Every other fruit she'd prepared sat there, pristine and untouched, save for all the missing apples. She was stunned and didn't know why. "Did you always like apples this much?"

"Hmm..." the blonde smirked, as if recalling a fond memory. "Only the red-skinned ones, I guess."

The exact meaning of his words was lost on her, but that only served to haunt her more.

"Well, y'know what they say: 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away'," Canon grinned, almost singingly.

"R-Right," Kururu gulped. "An apple a day. Healthy." But she knew if she'd cut up two, even three apples, he'd eat all of them quickly, happily.

Something — and she wasn't sure what — about Canon's behaviour unsettled her.

"So, what were you saying before?"

"N-No," Kururu relented, afraid her anxiety was showing. "It's nothing."

"Really now..." Canon drawled suspiciously, flashing a sly and confident grin before it disappeared altogether, replaced by the gentle smile Kururu knew. "Well, if you say so..."

Suddenly, the room felt frigid and Kururu's legs were numb from the weight of the guitar on her lap, but she made no attempt to push the instrument aside. The persistent din from the TV was muted by the unease she felt.

"Hey," Canon lifted the guitar off her lap, bright-eyed with a modest tone in his voice. _Oh_, Kururu thought,_ the Canon I know_. "Do you have any more apples?"

Somehow, she didn't feel like playing the guitar anymore.


End file.
